#shadowheart x oc

[gibbarts]

shadowheart and lysithea (from baldurs gate 3)

[cinnamoncatto]

" Everything will be okay ♡ "

UNCENSORED ART HERE

[iteveit]

Commission work! Quite happy with the result of this one :3

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Confessions

Word Count: 2.8k

Themes: fluff, pining

Summary: Vaylin drops a little truth on Gale 

Disclaimer: @shadowwheartt and I got far too invested in our playthrough/characters and we both think we’re funny so here’s the product of that. More to come?

Vaylin is a drow oath-broken paladin. We have headcannoned that Amren a half-drow rogue, is her younger half-sister. Both women are bhaalspawn in our little world with thier shared parent being Bhaal himself

Gale narrowed his eyes as he watched Amren laugh at something Astarion had said. The vampire spawn was sitting far too close to her for Gale’s comfort, his arm slung around the back of her seat as he leant in to whisper something in her ear. Amren’s laugh rings out across the camp and her hand slaps down on Astarion’s knee as she unconsciously leans against his side while she tries to catch her breath. He takes a deep swig from his goblet of wine, a frown marring his brow, before he pushes himself off the fallen log he’d been sitting on and skulking away in the opposite direction. His path takes him across the camp and straight past Shadowheart’s tent, where the cleric and her ever-present companion, Vaylin, both sit outside sharing a bottle of wine. 

“Hey, Sparklefingers, why the long face? Did someone dogear a page in one of your precious books again?” Vaylin asks, her tone light yet incredibly snarky as he tries to walk past them.

“You know, I’ve never quite understood how you and Amren can share so many features and characteristics as sisters, and yet your words always cut like the sting from a death viper while she comes across as docile as a newborn tressym,” Gale bristles at her words and gives Vaylin a levelled glare. Vaylin snorts as she takes a sip from the bottle, her laugh turning into a cough as the liquid goes down the wrong way. 

“Docile?” Shadowheart lets out a soft laugh and grabs the bottle of wine from Vaylin so she can take a sip herself. “There are dozens of words I would use to describe Amren, but docile is definitely not amongst them.” Gale’s shoulders slump slightly as Shadowheart gives him a sympathetic smile and wills himself not to look at the smirk that’s no doubt lingering on Vaylin’s features. “What’s the matter, Gale? Unlike some people,” she shoots a look at her girlfriend who remained unaffected, “I understand the value of a pair of friendly ears when one is struggling.”

“It’s just,” he lets out a sigh and waves his hand in the direction he came from, where Amren and Astarion are no doubt still sitting together closer than friends should. “It’s nothing. As much as I would like for there to be.” He hears Amren laugh again, the sound softer this time, and tries not to linger too much on how he’s probably missed his chance with the female rogue. Of course she was curled up beside the fire with Astarion, the vampire spawn was everything he wasn’t - charismatic, attractive and refined. There was no wonder Amren fell for his charms. Gale was far too deep into his self-deprecating thoughts to notice Vaylin let out a yawn, clearly bored by the conversation and pouting wizard already. Shadowheart elbowed the oath-broken paladin in the side and sent her a reprimanding glare before looking back at Gale with a concerned expression.

“Nothing wouldn’t include a certain rogue, would it?” Shadowheart asked.

“Two of them, actually,” Gale admits. Shadowheart peers around his frame to where both Astarion and Amren are sitting together, whispering about something they’re too far away to hear. Despite her better judgement Vaylin takes a peek as well, her nose wrinkling as she realises just why the wizard is looking so downtrodden. 

“I’m not sure who has worst taste, Astarion for being into Amren, or…ugh, nevermind,” Vaylin reaches for the wine bottle again and takes a long drink, as if she were trying to wash the unsaid words from her mouth. 

“I have neither the time nor patience for your riddles or your half-veiled insults tonight, bhaalspawn,” Gale crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Speak plainly or don’t speak at all.” Vaylin raises a solitary eyebrow and takes a slow sip from the bottle of wine, her gaze unwavering as she stares him down. She would sooner rip her own tongue out than admit it aloud, but there were stirrings of respect at his newfound backbone rising within her. At least she thought that’s what it was, it was buried so deep within her it could have very easily been indigestion from the vinegary wine they were drinking. Gale seemed to realise after a moments silence that she had taken his words literally and had decided not to speak at all and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at her antics. 

“Will you please just put him out of his misery?” Shadowheart turns to look at Vaylin, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“What do you propose I do?” The drow scoffed, “Light him on fire?”

“You know perfectly well that is not what I meant,” Shadowheart nudged Vaylin and took the bottle of wine back from her. “You’re not getting this back until you tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Gale asked, frowning in confusion as he watched Vaylin give Shadowheart a withering glare. Both women ignored him as they stared each other down, waiting for the other to break first.

“You’re a sadist,” Vaylin groaned in defeat, tipping her head back dramatically.

“You weren’t complaining last night,” the cleric quipped. Gale felt his face go warm as Vaylin looked back at Shadowheart, the heat obvious in her gaze.

“Can someone please tell me what I’m missing?” Gale repeats, hoping to draw the attention back to him so he didn’t have to witness the pair eye-fuck each other in front of him. 

“Every single target whenever you cast…well, any spell really,” Vaylin turns to him with a saccharine smile. 

“Tell him or there will be more than one person left unsatisfied tonight,” Shadowheart nudged Vaylin again, a little harder this time. The oath-broken paladin looked at her girlfriend with narrowed eyes as the meaning of her words sunk in.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Are you willing to test that theory?” Shadowheart asked innocently, her fingers toying with the pendant on the necklace Vaylin had gifted her. The charm was in the shape of an orchid and Vaylin had painted it blue herself so that it looked as similar to a night orchid as possible. It sat on the end of a long chain and rested in the valley of her cleavage, and although the drow needed no prompting to look there anyway her eyes were immediately drawn in by the movement. She sighed deeply and braced herself as if the words she was about to say physically pained her. 

“She’s in love with you, you blithering idiot,” Vaylin spits out. Gale feels all the breath leave his lungs and his face burns as the words settle in his head. 

“Very tactful. Well done,” Shadowheart remarks dryly, allowing Vaylin to snatch the wine from her again. 

“She’s…she’s what?” Gale repeated. His knees felt weak and he slowly sank down to sit on the ground. Vaylin was always throwing back-handed remarks out at his expense, surely this had to be one of them? He glanced at Shadowheart, who leant forward in concern as he sat with them, her hand reaching out as if to touch his own before she pulled back again. Shadowheart wouldn’t be that cruel to him though. She made the odd quip in his direction as well, but that was all friendly banter, and something he returned all too often in kind. He felt as if his mind was racing at a million miles per minute as he tried to figure out if what Vaylin had said about her sister was all in jest or not. 

“Oh, sure, feel free to join us,” Vaylin rolls her eyes as he sits with them. “The more the merrier.”

“Behave yourself,” Shadowheart glares at her. “Do you have the capacity to be compassionate for at least two seconds?” Vaylin scowled at her girlfriend and instead of replying took another sip from her wine. “Gale, are you alright?” she turned her attention back to the wizard when it became clear that Vaylin wasn’t going to speak anymore.

“Is it true?” he asks, his voice no louder than a whisper. He didn’t dare to hope that it would be, he needed the confirmation. He needed Shadowheart to tell him that Vaylin hadn’t been lying and that it was true that Amren cared for him as deeply as he cared for her. 

“She could have said it better,” Shadowheart glances at her girlfriend, who gives her a sweet smile in return, “but yes, it’s true.”

“She loves me?”

“Yes.”

“But…but Astarion -” 

“I’m going to say this once,” Vaylin looks at him, her tone stern, “and if you ever tell another person alive or dead that I said this I will deny it with every ounce of my soul. In terms of a love interest she could do…much worse than you, I suppose.”

“That almost sounded completely sincere,” Shadowheart looked at the drow with a small smirk, “I’m so proud of you.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Vaylin, I’d say you were warming up to me,” Gale teased.

“Fuck off, wizard.” Her body language made it extremely clear she would not be saying anything further to him that evening, whether it was an unwilling compliment or a scathing insult. Gale just smiled to himself and bid Shadowheart goodnight, ignoring Vaylin completely as he walked away from the tent and gave them both some privacy. 

He wandered back in the direction he had originally come from, his steps feeling infinitely lighter than it had before his conversation with the prickly drow and her girlfriend. He suspected the drow liked him more than she let on, and although her softer side was only reserved for their cleric and her sister, he could see she was (albeit begrudgingly) slowly getting used to his presence and the affections that he held for Amren. 

He knew her behaviour came from the horrors of being raised as a bhaalspawn, and although he wouldn’t admit it to her, he found Vaylin’s strength and resilience admirable. Hers and Amren’s. Although they didn’t share a mother, both women had been sired by Bhaal himself and only found out about the other during their teens. It had been a difficult journey for them to renounce their fathers ways and leave his cult, but here they both were, trying to prove that their unfortunate bloodline did not define who they were as people. 

Gale approached Amren and Astarion, who broke apart to look up at him as he neared. Amren’s face lit up with a smile as she took note of him and for a brief moment he stopped and wondered if he’d always been so blind. Gale prided himself on his intelligence, there wasn’t a puzzle he couldn’t solve or a spell he couldn’t cast without a little work first - so how had he not noticed the way Amren looked at him until now? Her lavender eyes - the only indication of her half-drow lineage - all but reflected every single thing he felt for her right back at him. He gave her a warm smile as he sank into a seat beside her and only offered Astarion the briefest of looks as he spoke to the male rogue, unwilling to look away from the woman next to him. 

“Could you give us a moment, Astarion?” Gale asked. Astarion gave him an affronted look, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically as he looked between Gale and Amren, a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. He knew, of course, what was about to happen. It was glaringly obvious to everyone in the camp how the pair felt for each other - everyone except them of course - and even though he didn’t particularly fancy being a third wheel in the performance, he couldn’t help but put up a little bit of a fight at the request.

“Is everything okay, Gale?” Amren placed a hand on his, her expression laced with worry. Gale felt his heart thump in his chest as her skin brushed his and for a moment he wondered if her touch alone would be enough to help him get through the days that the orb in his chest demanded more magic. 

“Everything is…wonderful,” he admits, breathing out a quiet laugh. “I just need a moment of your time. Alone.” He gives Astarion another pointed look, silently hoping he would take the hint and give them some privacy.

“Star,” Amren nudges him gently as she murmurs his name. “Can you give us a few minutes, please?” Astarion sighs in mock exasperation, but can’t help but smile and nod at her request, the nickname she’d bestowed upon him warming his heart. He ruffles Amren’s hair playfully and easily dodges her hand as she tries to swat him away before making his way across camp to sit with Shadowheart and Vaylin so he can eavesdrop and relay the conversation to them both. Gale doesn’t say anything for a few moments and Amren takes his hand in hers and squeezes gently, calling his attention back to her. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” he assures her. He catches her hand in between both of hers, lacing their fingers together. “I didn’t plan on this, I’m not quite sure what to say.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Amren teases lightly. “Is the famed Wizard of Waterdeep at a loss for words?”

“No,” Gale shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “But Gale Dekarios is.” He meets Amren’s gaze and brushes some hair away from her face before letting out a quiet sigh. “I just had a talk with your sister.”

“Oh gods,” Amren wrinkles her nose. “Whatever she said to you now I’m so sorry, Gale. I’ll have a word with her in the morning about being nicer to you.” 

“There’s no need. She actually behaved herself this time.” Amren gives him a look, clearly not believing a word he had said and he can’t help but laugh at the expression. “Alright, she was mostly behaved. I’ve definitely had more harrowsome conversations with her than this one.”

“What did you talk about?”

“You.”

“Me?” Amren pulls back in surprise. “What about me?” Gale releases her hands to run his own through his hair to ease the slight anxiety that sits in his chest. 

“If things were different, if we were back home I could have done this better. I would have taken the time to properly romance you and lavish you with gifts and treat you exactly how you deserve to be. I would have taken the time to come up with a rousing speech about all the different ways I care for you instead of deciding to confess this all to you on a whim and feeling like the ground has been ripped out from underneath me…but that’s what you do,” his gaze turns tender as she watches her expression for any sign that Vaylin and Shadowheart had been lying to him. “From the moment I met you I feel like the ground has been ripped out from under my feet and I’m falling and you’re the only one who can steady me. You’re so special to me, Amren. I care about you more than I can express.”

“What…exactly did Vaylin tell you?” Amren asks slowly, her voice hoarse and her cheeks flushed.

“I want to hear the words from you. I don’t want to repeat something that I heard secondhand.”

“Gale…”

“I love you, Amren,” he takes her face in his hands, his forehead pressed lightly against hers. “I am utterly and hopelessly in love with you and I sincerely hope what your sister said was true and you feel the same way about me.”

“Of course I’m in love with you,” Amren feels her heart melt as his eyes slide shut in relief and his body physically relaxes. “How could I not be, Gale?”

“I had thought there was something between you and Astarion,” he admits. He opens his eyes again in time to catch the amused expression on his face. 

“No one compares to you, Gale Dekarios.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that. I didn’t particularly fancy making an ass of myself as part of your sister’s whims.” Amren laughs softly at that and leans in a little closer so that their lips are only a fraction of an inch away.

“Careful now, Gale, she is the reason we’re finally having this conversation. I’d say you owe all of this to her,” Amren teases. Gale groans playfully, but there’s an undeniable happiness on his face as he takes in Amren’s smile. He tilts her chin up slowly, his eyes flickering from her, down to her lips and back up again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You better.”

[oceanmusings]

Pretty Girl

Pairing | Shadowheart x Prisma

Content Warning | none. Fluffy, Prisma trying to tell Shadowheart how pretty she is.

Word Count | 606

Summary | Prisma got hurt pretty badly in battle. Shadowheart is trying to heal her, but her lover keeps telling her how pretty she is instead.

The minute the battle was done Shadowheart looked towards Prisma, she took most of the hits and looked the worst out of all of them. The amount of blood and her knees looking like they were going to give out from under her. Shadowheart took long strides over to her and held her up by her elbow before her knees gave out. “Easy, easy.” Shadowheart murmured, spotting a pillar in the room she could sit against. “Come on, love.” Gently the half-elf led the wood-elf to the pillar and guided her to sit down and rest her back against the sturdy surface. Shadowheart placed her hand on Prisma’s face, turning her head slightly to be able to examine all the cuts and where the blood was coming from her that was flowing freely down her face. Once she began to murmur the healing cantation did Shadowheart find herself being able to start breathing a little easier as the bleeding stopped.

“Pretty.”

Shadowheart looked into her lover’s eyes to find them bleary but staring at her, a sort of drunk smile on her face. “D-did you know yo-you’re pretty.”

A flush raised to Shadowheart’s cheeks, but she tried to ignore it. “You have a concussion.”

“Concoosing” - Prisma tongue not working with her to be able to say all the syllables to “concussion” - “or not! I still know you’re p-pretty.” Briefly Prisma’s purple eyes closed as Shadowheart murmured another healing spell, looking at peace for a moment but muttering to herself; “smart, beautiful, stunning, kind, pretty, beautiful green eyes and prettiest hair.”

Prisma’s hand raised shakily and brushed some of Shadowheart’s bangs behind her pointed ear.

“You lost a lot of blood, now you’re talking nonsense.” Shadowheart grabbed her hand that brushed her hair, pressing a kiss to her calloused skin before resting it on her lap. Trying to keep her lover’s hands to herself so she could focus.

“I am speaking truth.” her lover pouted.

“Hey, how is she?” Shadowheart looked up to Karlach who was looking down at them, also not looking too hot herself, but nothing compared to the wood-elf sitting against the pillar who was muttering to herself on how much she liked kissing her and holding her hand.

“Cuts slowly being mended, but definitely have a concussion. A couple days' rest would do good for her. All of us.”

“Karlach!” Prisma suddenly exclaimed drunkenly once she saw the tiefling. “Is-isn’t Shadowheart p-pretty!” The wood-elf raised her free hand to cup Shadowheart’s face, squishing her cheeks slightly as she turned her head to look up to Karlach more. The blush on Shadowheart’s cheeks darkening against her will.

Karlach let out a snort as an amused smile tugged at her lips as she turned her gaze to their concussed friend. “The prettiest one next to me.” The tiefling agreed and Prisma grinned happily, like she was proud of herself.

“See! Y-you are pretty!”

“Thanks for indulging her.” Shadowheart grumbled, prying her lover’s hand from her face and pinning it to her lap with the other one. Karlach took this moment to leave the two alone, probably tell the others they would make their way back to camp. “Let me heal you, please.”

“What do I get if I do?”

Shadowheart took a moment to think what her concussed lover could want from her, closing her eyes as the exhaustion was beginning to hit her all at once. Both from the battle and now the wood-elf in front of her. “You get a kiss if you let me heal you.”

Immediately that made her perk up, a joyous smile on her lips as she exclaimed. “Deal!”

[shadowfalllen]

Chapter 1: First Cup Of Coffee

In the charming town of Willowcreek, fall settles in, bringing with it quiet, cozy days for aspiring author Clara Whitfield. But when a mysterious woman called Shadowheart moves into town and starts working at Clara's favorite café, Clara’s everyday life gets turned upside down. Clara finds herself captivated by the snarky new barista, and soon, the writer’s block that has plagued her all year becomes the least of her worries...

[oceanggirl]

Family Cuddle

Prisma and Shadowheart in their little cottage, cuddling their fur-babies, Hayley (orange cat) and Fangs (white fluffy one).

They demand the cuddles. And neither can deny them.

Who is prisma? : prisma is my DND character I made years ago. I used her for BG3! She has 2 romance routes. One for shadowheart and one for Gale!

[gothastarion]

[optiwashere]

And so begins Femslash February 2024. Written for the prompt, "Morning after."

How about some non-sexual intimacy (hair washing) on the morning after the Shadowheart sex scene? Emotional hurt/comfort after the Gauntlet, anyone?

Rating: M for Mostly alluded to sex, but nothing explicit

Category: F/F

Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav

[medra-gonbites]

A Night to Remember

One Shot Chapter about Shadowheart and Astarion wreaking havoc in Baldur's Gate as they go for a night out. Meaningful heart to heart and drunken shenaningans ensue.

SFW - Platonic Friendship - Some Wyllstarion - Mention of depression (light) - Alcohol

Words: 4979

“And how do you feel?” He asked, noticing her thoughts wandering at that moment too. She opened her mouth to answer his question but swallowed a sob instead. The last hours had been like this; spontaneous surge of overwhelming sadness, coming in strong with no warnings and leaving as suddenly as they came if repressed on time. Astarion noticed but feigned to have not. For her sake. “I’m bored out of my mind!” He blurted out, lazily stretching his arms above his head. “And the wine is gone.” The cleric breathed in a disappointed voice. Astarion opened wide eyes at this statement. “The wine is gone?!” Shadowheart nodded, a resigned expression on her face. Astarion sprung to his feet. “Oh, that simply won't do, darling!” He offered her his hand and she hesitantly took it. There was a grin on his pale lips that screamed mischief. “How about we go out tonight? Let’s do something fun, instead of feeling sorry for ourselves.” Shadowheart considered the invitation. If there were no combats to be fought, no quests to be pursued, no relics to be retrieved, they might as well indulge in a little adventure of their own.

Read the rest on A03 or below the cut!

I hope you enjoy that one as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a lot of fun to be honest.

Also if someone can advise me on concise writing (I always start telling myself "this one will be a short one" and it never is!)

The sun was setting slowly behind the placid waters of the Chionthar. The whole camp was silent, safe for the punctual snores of Scratch and Baby who were napping in the shade of a dilapidated wall.

Shadowheart had spent most of the day in a torpor. Between cries and attempted mediation, it had been difficult to shake the anxiety and grief off her heart. After the debacle at the House of Grief she had finally gotten closure. But at what cost? Yes, she was free of Shar’s once and for all, but the cruelty of her former Goddess had again left her loveless and in pain as she had faced her parents’ death, minutes only after finally being reunited. It was what her parents wanted. A liberation more than a death sentence in their eyes. Despite it all, she could not help but feel like she had made the wrong choice.

She looked at her hands, the circular wounds punctured through her flesh finally closed and no longer throbbing in excruciating agony. A darken scar, the only remains of Shar’s former hold on her. She turned in her bedroll contemplating the night orchid exposed in a vase outside by the opening of her tent.

Denisious had been there of course, to comfort her and convince her that her choice was the righteous one. As a bard, he always found the right word to coax her into peace of mind. She loved him dearly for that. His bravery and kindness which drove him to help the innocent around him. His willingness to be good to everyone. His patience, that she had stretched thin with her blinded faith, but that had ultimately allowed her to change path and redeem herself. And yet, as she was mourning the loss of something she had for so long forgotten she had, even him could not help making her feel better.

She was grateful that he and her companions had given her space and left her at camp, to process what had happened. She did not feel fit to undertake the adventures that were coming their way. Halsin would have to be the healer for a time as she remained behind in the slums they called camp, by the docks of Baldur’s Gate.

A ray of light angled into her tent, and shined into her eyes and Shadowheart squinted. The heat was starting to increase under the thick walls of canvas. Sweat was beading on her forehead. With an exhausted sigh, she got up and exited the stifling warmth of her pavilion in search of fresh air. Walking aimlessly around camp, she caught eyes on Astarion, sitting on the ground by the pier, his feet dangling above the water. His eyes closed, he was basking in the sunlight, a soft smile on his lips.

Much like herself, the vampire had experienced a couple of difficult trials recently. His confrontation with Cazador had left him drained and numb. He was treated with the same courtesy as she was, and allowed some respite in camp for a few days. They were both lucky their de facto leader was a sensitive man.

She approached him quietly, not wanting to disturb him, but the rogue heard her footsteps. Opening alarmed eyes to see who was coming, his frightened look softened at the sight of his cleric companion. He eyed her up and down, before turning back to the sun.

“Darling! You look like shit!”

She came to sit next to him. Coming from anyone else this would be offensive. But from him it was just playful. And probably true. She observed the elf. He had dark circles under his eyes and sunken cheeks. His lips were dry and his usually very well kept hair were negligently tousled and frizzy. It seemed as though he had not tranced or drunk for a few days.

“Likewise, darling.” She answered with a chuckle.

“Two rejects set aside to lounge in camp.” He commented bitterly.

“You know they have not sidelined us.” She grumbled, convincing herself as much as she was trying to convince him, “After what we have been through, it seems only fair to make time to feel, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. Seems worse somehow; like I have too much time and too much space for my thoughts to wander.”

She knew what he meant; Her thoughts wandered as well and they had a tendency to go downwards into a spiral of self doubt and questioning. All the what-ifs and fake scenarios that were useless to picture and dissect since they had not come to pass and never would.

“And how do you feel?” He asked, noticing her thoughts wandering at that moment too.

She opened her mouth to answer his question but swallowed a sob instead. The last hours had been like this; spontaneous surge of overwhelming sadness, coming in strong with no warnings and leaving as suddenly as they came if repressed on time. Astarion noticed but feigned to have not. For her sake.

“I’m bored out of my mind!” He blurted out, lazily stretching his arms above his head.

“And the wine is gone.” The cleric breathed in a disappointed voice.

Astarion opened wide eyes at this statement.

“The wine is gone?!”

Shadowheart nodded, a resigned expression on her face. Astarion sprung to his feet.

“Oh, that simply won't do, darling!”

He offered her his hand and she hesitantly took it. There was a grin on his pale lips that screamed mischief.

“How about we go out tonight? Let’s do something fun, instead of feeling sorry for ourselves.”

Shadowheart considered the invitation. If there were no combats to be fought, no quests to be pursued, no relics to be retrieved, they might as well indulge in a little adventure of their own. She grabbed a piece of parchment and some ink from Gale’s nearby tent and crafted a little note to let the rest of the troop know not to worry, should they return to camp before them. Astarion laughed.

“Leaving a note? Aw, that is precious!”

“Well, we wouldn’t want them to think you kidnapped me would we?” Shadowheart bantered.

“Or that you kidnapped me.” He snapped back, “You might leave a note like a well-mannered girl but I know deep down you are as much of a menace as I am!”

“Touché!”

Shadowheart winked. She folded the letter neatly and deposited it in the center of camp, weighted with a brick. The pair left promptly for the city as the sun was almost down behind the horizon.

----------------------------------------------------------

The Elfsong Tavern was animated that night. The music of a live band of bards was almost drowned out by the buzzing of the crowd. Scanning the room with eager eyes and failing to find a free spot, Shadowheart was almost resigned to go somewhere else, but her companion was not going to give up so easily. Lakrissa, the young waitress and friend of them, came to salute them, a tray full with empty tankards balancing on her palm.

“Hello dear, would you have space for two very special customers?” Asterion purred into her ear.

The tiefling blushed but shook her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry Astarion, tonight is packed! All because we are hosting this new up and coming band, "The Tumbling Rocks", have you heard of them?”

“No.” He replied, irritated, “And given the ruckus that all these dunkards make we never will!”

The Tiefling giggled. She looked tired, her shift must have been long and tedious with the music, the noise and the rowdy customers.

“Are there some patrons that could be benevolent enough to free their table?” Astarion inquired, an eyebrow raised to underline his insinuation.

“Now that you mention it…” She discreetly tilted her head to a table in the far corner of the room.

Two halflings were playing cards. One of them was swaying back and forth on his seat, catching the table every time he balanced backwards to prevent himself from falling. His face was red, bloated and glistening with sweat. The other sported a massive brown stain on his chest, proof of his recently spilled drink. He kept regurgitating burps and hiccups, his cheeks inflating with the threat of another type of spillage.

“These two are rude, drunk and frankly on the verge of vomiting their ale on the table. I wouldn't mind if they decided to go home…”

With an understanding nod, Astarion approached the table. He greeted the two men enthusiastically, swaying his arm wide open, as if they were long time friends.

“Good evening gentlemen! I trust you are having a pleasant time?”

“F…. Fuuck Offf… F…. F…! We’re not… inte… *hic* rested in your shits, you t… *hic* twat.” The red man barked.

Lakirssa wasn’t lying: they were rude and drunk.

“Is that a way to talk to a fiend?”

“What? Don't you mean frie…” The halfling stuttered before trailing off at the sight of Astarion flashing his fangs at him. His red face grew instantly paler.

Shadowheart leaned close to the other man, still hurling dangerously, like an ominous presage to his inevitable spewing.

“And who's your… fff…*hic* Who’s your ff…. Friend? She’s lovely. She’s an angle?” He struggled to word his sentence.

“Why, thank you. You’re quite the stud yourself…” Answered the young woman, batting her eyelids way too much.

The halfling smiled bright, but his joy was cut short as another belch came from the back of his throat.

“Would you like… A drink? With me?” He resumed with a staggering voice, “And then we sm… *hic* And then we smooch!”

“Oh that sounds like fun.” Shadowheart cooed in fake flirtation, “But you know what I would like more?”

The halfling shook his head, Shadowheart reached out to touch his waist with a flutter of her fingers.

“Night orchids. I’ve heard there are plenty in Bloomridge Park. Would you be a dear and get me one? Then we smooch.” She promised.

With more intent and determination that his drunken state allowed him, the man slid off his stool and rose to his feet.

“It shall… *hic* Shall be… *hic* I shall be do, M’lady!”

He attempted to bow but tumbled forward, hitting his forehead on the table. He stood back up, rubbing the fresh bump on his brow and shuffled towards the exit of the tavern. His friend watched him go, perplexed.

“Linus?” He called, offended to have been eclipsed by the beautiful “angle”.

He turned his gaze back to Astarion, a wary expression at the sight of the pearly fangs that were now only a few inches from his face. He gulped with difficulty.

“Night… Orcs, was it? He downed the remaining of his ale, stood up and ran after his companion. “I better go… and help him…”

With a satisfied smile Astarion sat down on his newly earned stool. He pushed the empty tankard and discarded cards to the side with the back of his hand.

“These boorish little fuckers didn’t even pay for their drinks.”

“Oh yes they did!” Shadowheart cackled, showing the coin purse she had pickpocketed from her target moment before. “And they are about to pay for ours too.”

“Shadowheart, you little vixen!” Laughed Astarion, “I see, your fingers are as slippery as mine! Are there even night orchids in Bloomridge park?”

“No idea! But I doubt he’ll reach the park before he passes out.”

The pair ordered a bottle of Westgate Ruby wine. After their first few glasses, Shadowheart could feel her body relax and her cheeks flush. The music was getting louder and the overlapping of the conversation around her formed a hubbub that made her ears ring. She did not mind at all. It was better than the silence at camp. The silence which allowed her to think and get lost in her mind. Astarion was talking, waving his hand in the air as he was ranting.

“And that is why he should not eat garlic when he plans on allowing me to drink from him!”

“I will be sure to let him know…” Shadowheart replied absentmindedly.

Astarion and Denisious had made an arrangement at the beginning of their journey. Denisious would provide him with blood so that Astarion could hunt more efficiently. Some nights he wouldn’t even need to if the spawn had already fed on a foe earlier that day. It was this sort of selfless act that he was capable of. Sometimes she wondered if his compulsory need to help and fix people wasn’t the reason he was with her to begin with.

“What do you think of him? Truly?” She asked.

Astarion stopped mid drink, his eyes narrowing at her. He put his cup down and considered her question before answering.

“Is this a trap? I drunkenly gossip and you snitch it all back like a telltale?”

“Just curious.” She reassured him, “I love him… though I often wonder if the feeling is requited. Sometimes it’s hard to believe, with how little of me is actually left.”

Shadowheart looked down inside her glass. The red surface, still, shimmering with the light of the candelabra overhead. She could see a blurry silhouette staring back in the mirror of the liquid. Jenevelle. Shadowheart. There were two sides to herself and neither were a complete person. Her mind like a puzzle. Fragmented. Broken into pieces of lives that were so distant they felt like someone else's. Pale fingers came to dive into her cup, the shadow of her reflection breaking into ripples.

“Ew!” She protested, swatting Astarion’s hand away from her drink.

“I’d rather you give me your full attention if I am to answer. And indeed, to answer: He’s a gnome, dear! That’s quite a flaw, for starters…” With a naughty glint in his eyes, he lowered his voice and bent over the table drawing close to her face, “I meant to ask you by the way: how is that like in the bedroom?”

“Let’s just say his head is not the only thing that is disproportionately large.” Shadowheart casually replied, a suggestive smile on her lips.

Astarion sighed longingly.

“Oh my! To think I almost bore witness to that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know me by now. I did try to seduce him at first. For commodity.” The elf started, “Imagine that: I was ready to sleep with a gnome… “

He shook his head and tutted disapprovingly as if appalled by himself.

“Although I must admit he is quite charming, not to mention surprisingly resourceful in battle. Also his blood is delicious... And taking into account the piece of information you just shared… I am kind of starting to see the appeal.”

Shadowheart frowned, a hint of jealousy sparking inside her. It was not an emotion she was familiar with but she was getting annoyed and failing to see where this argumentation was going.

“I am thrilled to know that…” She snarled.

“My point is, darling: he declined.” Astarion affirmed with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Because he was always enthralled by these pretty green eyes of yours. From day one.” He took a sip of his wine to let his statement sink in, before concluding, “I understand that you doubt yourself… But don’t doubt him. That would be unfair.”

Shadowheart softened. It was reassuring to know of Denisious attraction to her, even at the dawn of their adventures. She thought of her own feelings. Love was not a precept encouraged by Shar. She had indulged in physical intercourses in the past, but love had never been at the root of it. Here it felt different, but was it truly love? Did she ever love before? She pondered the question before sharing it with her, by now, tipsy companion.

“Do you sometimes have the feeling you’ve forgotten how to love?”

“Sometimes, yes…” He hesitated for a spell, “After all these years of hate and torment it’s difficult to remember what it is like to love… And be loved.”

A mist of sadness came to cloud the vampire’s ruby eyes. Looking lost in his dissociation Shadowheart mentioned a name she knew would bring him back.

“I thought Wyll would have reminded you.”

Once again Astarion squinted suspiciously. Shadowheart smirked in her glass as she took a sip of her wine, catching how his incredulity barely hid an endearing elation at the name of the warlock.

“What in the Hells are you going on about?”

“Oh come on.” She teased, “Everyone has noticed the longing glances you have been throwing at each other. Remember after the battle with Ansur, during our little party when he asked you to dance?”

“Yes, darling. The man loves to dance. We all know that. I indulge him because he is, in fact, a good dancer” Astarion retorted, shifting on his seat uncomfortably.

“He’s infatuated with you. And you with him, aren’t you?”

“Please. A vampire and a monster hunter? How cliché…”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes.

“Remember to tell him before the end. You two deserve to be happy too.”

Astarion sighed, a small smile stretching the corner of his mouth betraying his affection. Sheepishly looking back to his friend, his stare warmed up upon meeting her look of complicity. He raised his glass.

“To the fools we love and who dare to love us.”

Their glasses clung together adding to the commotion of the tavern.

----------------------------------------------------------

It was well into the hours of the night and the two friends were walking less than gracefully, holding onto each other for balance. After scouring several taverns in the city, - the Elfsong, the Blushing Mermaids, the Splurging Sturgeon and a few more- it was agreed that they would slowly return to camp. It was when they walked by Bloomridge Park that Shadowheart stopped.

“Wait! Before we go back I want to check if they have night orcs!” She whined, pulling Astarion’s sleeve towards the entrance gate.

“You mean night orchids?” He laughed.

“That’s what I said!” She muffed in wounded pride.

Astarion was less inebriated than her but drunk nonetheless, and his hunger did not help his condition. First trying to resist the cleric’s pull he finally gave in and followed her through the park. As she was scurrying around in search of her precious flowers. He noticed something rummaging in a bush. A small familiar figure emerged from the branches.

“Well, hello Linus!”

Upon seeing the vampire, the halfling bowed, only to fall down, his chin hitting the ground with a dry thud.

“I am still in search of the Ffff… Flowers for my belo… belo… blov.” He said, retching rhythmically into the ground, “I took a break to puke in this bucket.”

He pointed at the bush from which he had come. His arm fell limp on the ground. Astarion briefly looked around in search of the other halfling but did not seem to see him anywhere.

“And where is your friend?” He asked.

“Home…” Linus mumbled.

“Astarion!” Shadowheart called, “Stop playing with Linus and come here!”

The halfling snore started to echo in the night. He considered drinking from him but had promised Denisious a long time ago he would only bite their enemies -and friends who were willingly offering. Having morals sure proved very inconvenient sometimes. Most times in fact. He stared at the man’s neck, a pulse beating enticingly just below his jaw.

“What would Wyll say?” is the thought which tipped over the balance. He breathed a resigned sight and gently pushed Linus into the bush with the tip of his shoe.

“Begone temptress.” He whispered with a chuckle.

He joined Shadowheart who had somehow left the park altogether via a small opening in the fence near a small retaining wall behind the facemaker’s clothing shop. She was standing by the bridge to the upper city, leaning on a wall and giggling.

“See that?”

She was pointing at a faded graffiti of a poorly drawn skull with crossed bones underneath it.

“Yes darling, I do… What of it?”

“I think I drew that.” She smiled wide, “Looong ago!”

Astarion grinned. He wasn’t sure what was cuter; the pathetic drawing, a wanna be edgy design that was just awful if one were to be honest, or the pride that now gleamed on Shadowheart's face. He patted her head, in a patronizing but delicate way.

“Well it’s certainly something…” He ventured.

As she kept her eyes on the skull her smile faded and her eyes grew dim.

“It’s one of my only memories of the city, even though I supposedly grew up here… Not even sure I actually did draw this. I wonder what else I have lost…”

Before his friend’s sadness Astarion was uneasy. He was not the comforting type. At least not the kind who could hug their drunk friend and tell them everything was going to be ok. Eying the surroundings, both in an attempt to divert from Shadowheart’s teary eyes and to find a distraction to subject her to, his gaze fell on a disregarded pot of paint by a nearby quest board. A brush was sticking out of the container, mucked up in the first layer of pigment which was already starting to clot. It was good enough for now.

He retrieved the pail, seized the brush and brought it up on the wall next to Shadowheart's presumed art piece. He traced two stick figures with pointed ears. One of them had two triangles sticking out of its mouth and the other a long braid that reached down its feet.

“There!” Astarion said, plunging the brush back into the gooey paint, “Now you know for sure that you were involved in defacing a property.”

Shadowheart’s face beamed with joy at the sight of the added graffiti.

“It’s us!” She exclaimed.

Astarion hushed her, “Yes it is darling, but keep your voice down, we are committing vandalism.”

“It will be fine! It’s Jaheira’s house.” She argued back.

Astarion opened his eyes wide. He did not know it was Jaheira’s house and he felt both amused and alarmed by that piece of news. He did not dislike the druid. She was sassy and blunt and always supportive in a non-pitiful way. And now he had unknowingly damaged her family house. So much for trying to be better.

“I know that look.” Shadowheart noted, interrupting his trail of thoughts, “You’re feeling guilty.”

“A mite…” He begrudgingly admitted.

“And what about a butterfly?”

Shadowheart bursted into laughter at her own, poor, joke. Astarion shook his head in response. Now was probably time to go home. He gently pushed her back to guide her towards the road to camp. Resisting at first, she grabbed the pot of old paint.

“I’m taking this!” She declared, “I want to redecorate camp!”

Astarion allowed it. He did not want to fuss over this. He knew her artistic endeavors would be gone in the morning. That or the paint would probably be dry and caked up at the bottom of the bucket by then.

Passing through the park, they could hear Linus sawing logs, still tugged in the bush, probably tossing and turning in his own fluid. With a flick of her arm, Shadowheart threw his coin purse into the shrubbery where she hoped he would find it. The purse, despite being way lighter than at the beginning of the evening, was not totally empty.

“Thank you Linus!” She shouted before they exited the park.

As they paced by the lower city wall, a strange sensation lingered in Astarion’s chest. He slowed down and looked up the rampart. Up above he could make out the east tower of the Szarr Palace, in which they had climbed a few days ago to confront his former master. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

Cazador Szarr was gone. He had killed him, himself. Stabbed and slashed until his arm was sore and his vision blurry and red with his blood. And then he had cried. And yet since then he had woken up, in sweats, terrified and persuaded he was still in his crummy dormitory. He had foolishly thought his tormentor’s death would mean freedom and healing. It was naive of him to have thought it could be so easy.

Before his tense look, Shadowheart had stopped. He had not realized but so did he, a while ago, lost in his contemplations, fixated on the high wall that towered above him. She followed where his gaze went, with a pained realization.

“I don’t know if my memory loss is a curse of a blessing.” She confessed, breaking the silence. “On one hand, I don’t have to hold myself accountable for anything, and have lost parts of my life I cannot regain… On the other hand,I suppose I escaped a lot of suffering which would have driven me mad, had I not forgotten.”

Astarion turned to her, hazy eyed. He did not respond. He did not know what to say.

“But,” She resumed, touching the cold stone of the wall, “The only thing that is fully ours now, is not our past and what has been, but our present and what we make it to be.”

The young woman stretched her arm upwards and began to paint something on the wall.

“And at present, I am drawing a dick on this wall so that the only memory you’ll have when you look up at it, is me, tracing it with old stolen paint and puking on the ground.”

“You haven’t puked on the gr…” Before he could finish his sentence, Shadowheart hurled a powerful gush of red wine that splattered between her feet and into the paint bucket.

“Hey! You!” A voice arose from a few feet away, the clinking of armour coming closer.

“Darling, if you’re done, we got to run!”

They both were running fast, this time resolutely heading for their camp without being side tracked, Astarion laughed hysterically, and for the first time in days he felt alive and happy.

----------------------------------------------------------

The sun was starting to rise when Shadowheart and Astarion finally reached their camp. Out of breath and sweating, they had managed to lose the Flaming Fists that were pursuing them. They arrived without discretion, barging in like a pack of wild dogs, welcomed by the disgruntled groans of some of their comrades, woken up by their sudden entrance.

As they tried to contain their laughter, they trailed off to sit on the pier, back at the spot where their little adventure had started. The indigo sky was growing brighter and brighter and the stars were slowly losing their sparks as the night sky receded.

“I’m sorry we can’t see the sunrise from here.” Shadowheart regretted.

“Why would you be sorry about this?” Astarion asked.

“I guessed it was something you’d like to see as many times as possible.”

That much was true. If all went well, if their plan worked, if they could defeat the brain then the tadpole in their head would disappear. That would mean no more sunlight for the rest of his days. He had mourned this possibility after he had decided not to go through with the rite of Profane Ascension. Yet every day when the sun rose he felt a flutter of sadness in the depth of his core. Every night when the sun set, the same flutter would once more shake his inside. His body a sunflower, drawn to and forever seeking the sun; soon he wouldn’t be able to bask in its light and had to hope he would not wither. It was a fate that no one could not help. He breathed in deeply before answering.

“I am not looking forward to going back to the night and shadows. But if I must, I will…”

“It is the light of the sun that shines on the moon and makes it glow at night.” Said Shaodwheart softly, laying her head on the vampire’s shoulder.

Her eyelids were heavy and shutting uncontrollably. She yawned.

“I’ll pray that Selûne protects you, always.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it tight. Before Astarion could answer, Shadowheart was deep asleep. He rested his head on hers. It was not the worst way to look at it. He wasn’t one to believe or rely on the Gods. He did not know if Selûne would care for him or not. But knowing Shadowheart did brought him more comfort than he would ever admit. Out loud.

Astarion heard the soft thump of footsteps coming closer. Incapable of moving without disturbing the sleep of his snoring friend he focused on the sound of the oncoming visitor. Short stride. Only one person in camp with legs that short.

“Hello Denisious!” He greeted before the gnome was in his line of sight.

The man planted himself in front of him, a gentle smile stretching his lips as he gazed fondly upon the face of his dormant betrothed.

“Did you guys have fun?” He whispered not to wake her up.

“A ton.” Laughed the vampire.

Shadowheart stirred, her eyes opened briefly.

“Hello lover,” She breathed in a sleepy voice, “Take me to my bedroll will you?”

Denisious took her hand and gently guided her back to her tent, which he had been sharing with her for a few weeks now. He laid a firm and friendly hand on Astarion’s shoulder as he passed the spawn.

Astarion watched the lovers slowly regain their bedding and his eyes wandered to Wyll’s spot, close to the cleric’s. The young man was peeking out of the entrance of his tent. Meeting his eyes, he waved timidly in his direction, a salute that Astarion replicated. Should he go talk to him as Shadowheart had suggested? Was now a good time? Would there ever be one?

Astarion stood up and walked decisively towards the warlock’s tent.

“There is no time like the present” He thought, “And the present is what we make it to be.”

[swagheart]

Memorial to a Marriage but make it toxic yuri swagheart

[cinnamoncatto]

Welcome to the lesbian corner, how can we help you today?

[iteveit]

Au Ra!Tav x Selunite Shadowheart again for a commission :3

[fan-tav-stic]

Day 14: Family Reunion (SFW) - Kairius (ft some UrsineHeartBeat)

Characters: Kairius (M!Tav), Cecilia (OC), Rosie (OC), Shadowheart + Halsin

Tags: crying, meeting the parents

Summary:

After everything is said and done, it's time to go home and see his moms after months away.

I would die for his two moms. I love them so fucking much...

[oceanmusings]

Kiss It Better

Pairing | Shadowheart x Prisma

Content Warning | some spoilers to Shadowheart story (act 2? I can't remember when the source of her pain is revealed.) Prisma wants to comfort her lover. She also confesses her love to Shadowheart. I didn't plan on it, but Prisma wanted it to happen. This is Fluff/Comfort really.

Word Count | 1.2K

Summary | Prisma knows Shadowheart feels these pains in her hand and she would rather all of them ignore it, but Prisma can't help but want to comfort the half-elf she cares for. Especially after she just confessed her love.

Masterlist

The first time it happened was at The Emerald Grove, standing in the Druid Quarters as Prisma convinced Kagha to let the little Tiefling child go. It was common for children to steal - even ritual artifacts - but they were children and given the option to grow and learn from their mistakes. The wood-elf watched the little girl run out of the quarters before Prisma’s eyes darted to her new dark haired companion yelp out in pain, clutching her hand. She raised an eyebrow to her, curious what had happened. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it’s just an old wound that hurts me from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about.” Shadowheart assured her as she rubbed the hand. Prisma finally noticed the black spot on the back of her hand. “It’s just something… I have to live with.”

“Dose it hurt?” Prisma asks, then immediately cringes as she realizes how stupid of a question that was. The woman just yelped out in pain, of course it hurts. “Sorry- that was a stupid question.”

“It’s okay.” Shadowheart muttered. “It hurts quite a lot, but it passes quickly. So I can manage.”

Prisma left it at that, but the more it happened, the more it pained Prisma to watch each flinch and yelp. Sometimes when she would smile at Prisma, her hand would flash and the smile would drop. A pit quickly developed in Prisma’s stomach, she wanted to make it better, especially when she was the source of making Shadowheart smile or laugh. The reveal of it being the act of her goddess Shar as a motive of punishment fueled that pit in Prisma’s stomach. She realized she wanted to make Shadowheart happy, to be the source of her smile, but without any involvement from Shar. Anytime it would happen too Shadowheart would request they ignore it, it moved on quickly and she didn’t want to put any attention onto it. As much as selfishly Prisma wanted to make it better, she respected that wish.

Once the two had become more than friends was an emotional day for Prisma and Shadowheart. It surprised Prisma she truly did feel the same connection, but was elated she wanted to pursue that feeling. But seeing the shock of pain now being Shadowheart’s lover brought a pain to Prisma as well. The last thing she wanted to do was make Shadowheart’s pain about herself, so she kept quiet, respected her wishes on ignoring anytime she heard the woman she cared for deeply yelp out “it hurts!” But watching the person you care for going through a pain caused by another just “because” was a pain Prisma didn’t know how to deal with. So she buried it, it was the best she could do.

“I-I haven’t said this to anyone before.” It was dark out, the stars twinkling above them as the moon watched the two lovers sit by a lake by themselves. Prisma had asked Shadowheart if she would meet her here at this lake when they got back to camp. Spend a night without the prying of their friends back at camp, and it’s been a while since it’s been the two of them. Besides, Prisma wanted to talk to her without anyone overhearing her.

“I’ve told people I care for them, that the care I feel for them is deep. But these certain words always get stuck in my throat. Never able to be uttered to anyone.” Prisma nervously picked a daisy close by her, holding up the tiny flower and rubbing the stem between her fingers to have the flower spin. “These words are terrifying, if I’m perfectly honest. I was afraid to say it to anyone. But… No matter how little time we’ve been traveling together, I can’t help but find myself not terrified to say it to you.”

“What are those words?” Shadowheart whispered, like she spoke any louder she would spook off the druid.

She looked down to Shadowheart, the beautiful woman lounging with her at the edge of a lake. Her chest bloomed happily the more she looked at Shadowheart as she patiently waited for her lover to speak. Prisma raised her hand, tucking the daisy behind Shaodwheart’s pointed ear.

“... I love you.”

She swallowed nervously as she watched for any reaction from Shadowheart, the tiniest out, any moment of rejection that could be coming her way. But all she found was a smile that pulled at her lips, making Prisma’s own smile grow.

“I love you, too.”

Shadowheart scooted closer to the other woman, slotting herself against Prisma’s side. Raising her hand to cup her cheek, brushing her thumb across the apple of Prisma’s green freckled cheek. It was either the relief or a magnet that pulled Prisma into her and pressed her lips against her lovers. She didn't care which it was.

Kissing Shadowheart had quickly become a favorite thing for Prisma to do. Typically in front of the others, the ones they would share in front of the others was soft, Prisma’s hand gently on Shadowhearts waist to pull her in as they make the kiss quick. But these ones, without anyone to see or interrupt, were the best ones. The way she slots herself against the wood-elf, leaving almost all her weight to be supported by her lover. Sometimes nipping at her lips just to cause a giggle to rise out of Prisma was adorable at how satisfied she was with herself. Shadowheart lets Prisma run on of her hands from her cheek to cupping her neck, able to feel her heartbeat faintly against her thumb as she deepens the kiss between them.

Prisma could do this forever.

Slowly she reluctantly parted the kiss, a joyous smile on her lips as a new euphoria filled her. The girl she told she loved, loved her back! This was the first person she’s ever truly meant it and knew that’s what she was feeling.

But the elation quickled faded.

Shadowheart let out a yelp, her hand jumping off of Prisma’s cheek to grasp her left hand, a pained expression as she whines, “it hurts!”

It was quick to fade but the smile didn’t return to her face. “Sorry- must’ve gotten too happy.”

An anger flared in Prisma’s chest. This was unfair. This was a happy moment for them, Prisma was not going to let Shar let herself be involved in this moment.

She gently touched Shadowheart’s left hand, taking over on rubbing it over before moving to link their hands together. “You shouldn’t be feeling pain just because Shar wants to punish you.” Prisma says as she gently rubs her thumb across her soft skin.

“It’s okay. I told you, I can live with it.” Always trying to assure everyone she was fine. Not to fuss over her comfort.

“I know,” Prisma whispers, looking down to her hand and rubs her hand across the black spot. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

She raised their linked hands to her lips and began pressing small kisses across the top of her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to kiss it better.” Prisma stopped for a moment to speak. “I know I can’t take away the pain and you prefer we ignore it… but… please let me, I can do this rather than just stand back and watch the woman I love being in pain. No matter how short it happens.”

Shadowheart seemed to be in awe, maybe a bit surprised, but a soft expression was there as she see’s how deeply her lover wants to look out for her. She knew Prisma wanted to help anyone’s comfort, but anytime it was to herself it was still a bit of a surprise. “Well- I won’t stop you.”

Prisma grinned and brought her hand back up to her lips.

[bigfatthock]

Esmerae, my high elf cleric of Selûne. Born to an upper city family, raised by her selûnite parents to be cleric. Travels the sword coast to offer her healing skills wherever needed. Does good simply because it's the good thing to do. Infuriatingly selfless. She meets Shadowheart, and is immediately so down bad for her. Tries to deny it, because obviously falling I love with a sharran is not ideal. But falls oh so in love. She enters Shar's gauntlet with Shadowheart deciding that come what may, she will leave by Shadowheart's side. To be abandoned by the goddess she dedicated her life to would not be such a terrible fate, so long as she has the woman she loves by her side, in some capacity. Just about explodes with love when Shadowheart throws that spear over the edge of the rockface and saves Dame Aylin.